


A Secret Engagment

by KChan88



Series: She Was Bound to Love You [8]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Bisexual!Christine, F/F, Lesbian!Raoul, Marriage Proposal, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KChan88/pseuds/KChan88
Summary: What if Raoul de Chagny was a woman?A series featuring the major events (and a few things in-between) from the Phantom of the Opera, with a gender-bent, lesbian Raoul (and a bisexual Christine). ALW based, with Leroux elements.Interlude IV: Before the masquerade ball, a proposal of marriage.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Series: She Was Bound to Love You [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627735
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	A Secret Engagment

Raoul wasn’t afraid that night six months ago when the chandelier came crashing down. She wasn’t afraid of that note written in blood red ink, threats dripping off the page. She _isn’t_ afraid of a man who calls himself a ghost. She refuses to be.

But all things considered, she is a little afraid of tonight.

It’s a good thing she’s mastered the art of hiding it.

Perhaps.

Maybe.

She wanted to take Christine back to the rooftop, every romantic bone in her body was screaming for it, but the practical side of her, the worried side of her—she is _not_ afraid—wanted this to be as private as possible. They’re going to the New Year’s masquerade ball at the opera house in an hour’s time, a celebration of the new chandelier and the full re-opening to more than just smaller performances.

A new start.

So they’re in the little flat, instead, and Raoul’s all right with that, because this has been their safe haven, the past few months. Their own little harbor. Christine’s tending to her hair, so Raoul studies her own outfit, brand new and made for just this occasion—a black velvet evening jacket that stays open, floral embroidery stitched in on each side, the edges of sleeves, and the collar. A white waistcoat with light gold embroidery lays beneath, a gold mask resting atop her black skirt. Her hair’s done in a low chignon, though one pesky strand has fallen out, and she tucks it behind her ear.

Christine comes out again, her silver boots complimenting the pink and purple dress, which is the same color as the flowers embroidered on Raoul’s jacket. Her brown curls are half pinned back, the rest tumbling down her shoulders, and she’s wearing a tiara with a moon-piece popping up.

“Do you like it?” she asks, spinning around with a grin.

“I adore it,” Raoul says. “You look beautiful. The bell of the ball, for certain.”

“You’re biased.”

“And you are lovely.” Raoul hesitates. “Would you mind…sitting down with me, a moment?”

Christine’s smile falters, her shoulders tensing. “Is something the matter?”

Raoul shakes her head, taking Christine’s hand and leading them both to sit on the edge of the bed. “No. Not at all. The opposite. I…” she struggles here, tears springing to her eyes already. “I love you, Christine. You know that, I hope?”

“Yes,” Christine says, deeply sincere as she holds Raoul’s hand tighter. “And I you.”

Raoul gives a nervous, small laugh, and tries to go on even as love, absolute, unyielding love for this woman, her oldest friend, rushes through her veins like rich red wine. Intoxicating. Overwhelming. She’s never wanted so much to keep someone else safe. To keep someone warm and happy. Christine sees her in a way that can’t be matched, and Raoul isn’t afraid to show herself. Everything is new and exciting, but the best thing, the thing Raoul thinks about most, is how safe _she_ feels with Christine. How their relationships feels like that familiar story you love so much and read over and over and over again, that story that feels like home.

Christine is home, for her. She has been for a long time.

So she straightens hers shoulders, takes a deep breath, and tells Christine how she feels.

“I know that…I know that we cannot march to the front of a church and swear vows in front of a priest. But I…these past few months have been the happiest of my life, and I cannot imagine spending the rest of it with anyone else.” She pauses a moment, taking the box with the necklace out of her pocket.

She hears Christine’s breath hitch.

“I know it might not be the life you were expecting, but we could live together, we could _be_ together, committed to each other, if you wish it. It is not marriage in the eyes of the law, but it would be, to us.” Raoul opens the box, and Christine gives a happy, emotional little gasp. Raoul meets the eyes of the love of her life, and finally, entirely, says what she means. “Will you marry me, Christine Daae?”

They lock eyes, and this moment is going to change her life, Raoul can feel it deep deep down in her bones.

Christine gives a little smile, a new smile, one Raoul hasn’t seen before. One that says _yes_ before she even speaks, Raoul hears the word in the air, the word that makes her soul shudder with feeling.

“Yes. _Yes_.”

Christine doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t pause. She just says _yes_ and her eyes are sparkling and Raoul’s spirit is alight as she moves to put the necklace around Christine’s neck, her hands shaking but steady as she does the clasp. She lifts Christine’s curls out from under the chain, setting them right again.

“I know it’s not a ring,” Raoul says as she sits back down. “But I thought a necklace might be…”

Christine cuts Raoul off with a swift kiss. And then another. And then a third, before she pulls away with a contagious grin.

“It’s beautiful, Raoul. I wouldn’t trade it.”

“I know we can’t have a ceremony, exactly, but we could have a little gathering with Philippe and Juliette if she can come, and Meg,” Raoul says, excitement flowing through her. “A dinner, maybe read some verses, whatever you like.”

Christine takes Raoul’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “It sounds lovely. And I…I would move in with you? Philippe is all right with that?”

Raoul smiles until her face aches. “Perfectly. There’s a suite in the house that has a bigger bedroom and a little sitting room, that used to belong to my parents. Philippe never moved into it when my father died because it’s meant for two, but we’ll call that our own. That is, if you’d like.”

For the first time, Christine looks a little unsure, a little afraid. “I…I want _you_ to be sure, Raoul. Tell me you’re sure. I’m not wealthy, I’m not…anything at all.”

Raoul tugs Christine’s hands toward her chest. “You are everything to me. Generous. Unfailingly kind. Beautiful. You are so full of life and I…” she pauses here, careful with her words. “I know you maybe haven’t felt like that since you lost your father, but I see it, Christine. That life in you. That spirit I saw when we were small. It’s still there, and you’ve brought it out in me again.”

Christine smiles again, a little shy. A little sad. “You’re too kind, Raoul.”

“I’m not. It’s only true. You…I know you’ve been lonely, the past few years. I’ve always felt that a little too, even though I have my siblings, and I’m grateful for them. My mother died when I was born, and my father was distant in his grief, and when I met you when we were children, I felt…something. That connection. We can do this, Christine. We don’t have to be lonely, and I know it’s different and I know there will probably be questions, but we can do this together, I know we can.”

No matter their nice clothes and their done hair, Christine throws her arms around Raoul, the two of them pressed close together.

“I know parts of it are frightening,” Raoul whispers. “I know what we might face. But I’m lucky enough to have the privilege, the money, to keep us as safe as we can be. I know we’ll have to lie, to say we’re companions and not what we really are, I know neither of us can say _this is my wife_ in public, but there will never be a lie between us. I promise you.”

Christine hooks her chin over Raoul’s shoulder. “I love you. I trust you.”

For just a moment, Raoul allows herself to think of the ghost. The ghost she’s done her best _not_ to think of the past few months. The shiver up her spine she’s ignored when she steps inside the opera house. The nightmares she’s soothed when Christine wakes up in the night, speaking in choked whispers about broken chandeliers and hanging bodies and a deep dark lair beneath the earth.

The past few months have been happy. Bright. Only infiltrated by the ghost insofar as Christine wanted to talk about him, and the work being done in the opera house. Raoul doesn’t want that to change. Maybe the ghost is gone. It’s been six months after all, and he is nothing more than a coward with his murder and his threats and his abuse of someone who trusted him.

Raoul presses a kiss to Christine’s hair, sliding out of the embrace. “I’m so excited to marry you.”

That smile comes back. That sweet, mysterious smile full of stories and soul.

“And I you.”

Raoul pauses, lifting the necklace gently. “You didn’t open it yet. It’s a locket.”

Christine takes it from Raoul’s hand, their fingers brushing, and undoes the clasp.

“The sea,” she whispers, looking up with shining eyes. “Where we met.”

Raoul only nods, because she can’t quite speak. She can only run the back of her hand down Christine’s cheek, love blooming like roses in her fingertips.

“I’ve loved you ever since then,” Christine says, very softly. “You, and how your eyes matched the water.”

Raoul’s breath catches in her chest, and she takes Christine’s hand again, holding tight.

“You are a miracle, Christine Daae.” She presses a kiss to Christine’s knuckles. “Are you ready for the new year?”

“Yes,” Christine says with a bright, beautiful grin that has just a hint of a shadow, a shadow Raoul hopes she can chase away, one day. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give the proposal it's own little chapter! Rest assured, Masquerade is next!


End file.
